


No Children

by Ariamaki



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-25
Updated: 2011-03-25
Packaged: 2017-10-17 06:27:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/173892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ariamaki/pseuds/Ariamaki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They said that the Trolls were not children-- They were right.<br/>Childhood had left them far behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Children

There was only one option left. They were dying, and if the humans came they would die too. He had to scare them off, to finally convince them that this plan was stupid, that they were horrible. Karkat got on to send what he hoped would be the last message the kids ever got from him, the stories of every horrible disgusting thing they had ever done, of how depraved their race was, and how they were not worth saving. He prayed they would hate them. Hate **him**...  
 _"I hope that our few remaining friends give up on trying to save us.  
I hope we come up with a failsafe plot to piss off the dumb few that forgave us.  
I hope the fences we mended fall down beneath their own weight.  
And I hope we hang on past the last exit... I hope it's already too late..."_

 

He stared at the computer, wild-eyed and desperate. Of course. He had the solution. Sollux had already given him the perfect solution. This would fix it... Hahaha. No. This wouldn’t fix anything. But if he was lucky? It would break everything, break every _one_ so much that there wasn’t any difference. He loaded up the virus, compiled it, and brought his finger down on ENTER, and it was just as sure, in that moment, as bringing down a sickle on every throat he had ever known...  
 _“And I hope the junkyard a few blocks from here someday burns down  
And I hope the rising black smoke carries me far away  
And I never come back to this town, again in my life.”_

 

He told everyone what good kismesises they were. They had all the hate. All of it.  
Even when she gave him that look, the one that said she was just toying with him, and would cast him aside when she grew tired of his antics.  
He had an easy way around that.  
He would make her hate him. He would make her really rage, forget her apathy and weep bitter blue tears of ire and wrath.   
He fondly hoped his last breath would be at her hands around his neck, and he fondly hoped that by that day she would feel the same.  
In more ways than one...  
 _“I hope I lie, and tell everyone you were a good wife.  
And I hope you die.  
I hope we **both** die.”_

 

He didn’t even remember how he got the wound, but he did. They stared. They all stared.  
He found he didn’t care.  
His neck was red all day, and he left a trail of drops. Whenever someone asked if he was okay, the pain got worse, and not in the good way. He needed to make them stop asking. To stop looking, staring... caring.  
He didn’t want them to care. He honestly _wanted_ their hate.  
Maybe he could cut it deeper tomorrow. Maybe _then_ their questions would go away.  
Maybe then they’d finally stop.  
Maybe then _he_ could stop...  
 _“I hope I cut myself shaving tomorrow  
I hope it bleeds all day long.”_

 

There wasn’t any darkness anymore. She lived in sunlight, she always had, unique and set apart. But now she was set apart by the veil of death, by her damned predilections and her failure. Their entire race was meant to live in the pitch blackness, and now she was a source of the over-bright light that none of her friends could survive. And she fed on their lives. And she had just slaughtered at least one of their race’s few remnants. Before this she had hoped she could revive their people. Now she just hoped the darkness would come back, even for a moment...  
 _“Our friends say it's darkest before the sun rises  
We're pretty sure they're all wrong  
I hope it stays dark forever.”_

 

Raw _power_ flowed both ways, red and blue crashing against his pure scientific white to make the color of his own blood, sparks and spatters of that color that so often stained the inside of his scarf. And his sleeves. And, once, one terrible time, Feferi’s shoulder as he cried and tried to explain himself. But now he couldn’t think about her, couldn’t _afford_ to think about her, because those eyes were getting brighter, wide bright eyes of blue and red...   
_“I hope the worst isn't over  
And I hope you blink before I do”_

 

He was frantic-- Pawing, reaching into corners, fingers digging into the crevices of his recuperacoon. His sylladex was empty, his tins were dry, and there was a single pie on the counter. The last pie. He stared at it, eyes wide, remembering the early days, remembering the oath he made to himself. And it looks like he was about to break it...  
 _"Yeah, I hope I never get sober."_

 

She hung up the dress... The dress _she_ made. She had used it to betray the very person who made it, to shatter her feelings and shove her away. But she had to. She couldn't let anyone get close, couldn't let anyone love her. She had done so many things that were unforgiveable, and she wasn't even sure she _wanted_ forgiveness. She honestly wanted... to be hated...  
 _"And I hope when you think of me years down the line  
You can't find one good thing to say."_

 

He had always wondered if she was really evil. She had been kind to him, a few times, she had even kissed him. But it finally came down to this, and he was ready to fight her... Or at least, he prepared for it. He wished beyond belief that when it came down to it, she would see that he had finally stood up to her, and let things be. Let him pass. Maybe even let him explain...  
 _"And I'd hope that if I found the strength to walk out  
You'd stay the hell out of my way."_

 

The bolt ripped through her, dead center and perfectly clean. She couldn't cry out or move or even change the shocked expression on her face. But as tyrian-purple blood flooded into the depths of her lungs, she went to inhale and found nothing but searing pain. There was the briefest split-second of confusion as she fell, and then she laughed. She had spent her entire life underwater, but...  
 _"I am drowning."_

 

She inhaled deeply, catching the slightest whiffs of goldenrod and grape. Every other meteor was long gone, and Skaia was nowhere in sight. And now... No wonder Karkat told them not to sleep. She could not smell a single thing of consequence in the void, the demon had gotten rid of their Lands, their dreamselves, their only homes and all their past. She sniffed one last time...  
 _"There is no sign of land."_

 

He caught her in one hand easily, shattering her wrist. This was what he expected to happen, when he saw her coming. What he did not expect was her pushing through the agony of the splintered bones, grabbing his wrist in her own hand, **smiling** as she brought her other claw to bear. Both of them constantly, endlessly, unbearably alone, rejected by the ones they loved, he had slain her only real friend, and then she was there, inches away, blue steel swinging through the air...  
 _"You are coming down with me, hand in unlovable hand.  
And I hope you die. I hope we **both** die."_

**Author's Note:**

> This has been a song-fic based on The Mountain Goat's _No Children_.


End file.
